


Knight Errant

by alilactree



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Innocence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alilactree/pseuds/alilactree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine is a knight who meets a young prince Kurt and is later assigned as his personal guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blaine shifted around restlessly on the cot, it was flimsy and stiff and creaked harshly under his weight, and only being able to lie down on his left side wasn’t helping matters. His shoulder underneath him was numb and aching, tingling pinpricks shooting down his arm and buzzing in his hand. It beat the alternative, however, as putting any pressure on his right shoulder made his teeth clench and his vision blacken and blur. He’d declined the opium, claiming it wasn’t that bad, but whatever noxious-smelling ointment they’d rubbed into the wound wasn’t helping in the slightest.

With a grunt of exertion Blaine managed to push himself into a sitting position, folding his legs together and leaning forward to see if there were any nurses currently passing by the narrow walkway between row after row of brown cots with only thin curtains strung between them for the illusion of privacy.

The walkway was strangely empty, no bustle of nurses in starched white uniforms changing dressings or administering medicine or food or offering a kind word or soothing touch. It was quiet. Just an occasional moan or murmuring, a cough. Quiet conversation and laughter from those knights that weren’t as badly injured or had almost recovered.

“What’s going on?” 

The man across from Blaine - around his age, sixteen, or maybe older but still a teenager, close-cropped dark blond hair wrapped in gauze that was stained red from a head wound - opened his uncovered eye, shrugged a shoulder.

“Royal visitors,” sneered a voice next to him. Blaine had taken an immediate dislike to the man recovering in the cot next to his, burly and swarthy and loud. He was constantly harassing the nurses, complete with disgusting nicknames and groping. Blaine had a sneaking suspicion that the guy was exaggerating his pain just for the opium; The gash on his leg really didn’t look that bad.

“Royal? Like-”

“His majesty himself. And the fancy little prince.” The man pitched his voice higher, pursing his lips and fluttering his eyelashes mockingly and Blaine had to stop himself from grabbing Head Wound’s bedpan and smashing the guy’s nose in with it.

He decided to take the high road and ignore him. Blaine craned his neck, wincing at the flash of pain in his shoulder from the movement, and there, at the end of the hall. The King himself. And the little prince.

Blaine had never seen them, raised in a farming village well outside of the castle grounds, and then had only just entered his official training before being sent out to the front lines. He had proven himself to be fast and lithe and decent with a sword, but better with a shield, and he was thrilled to protect and defend while the more skilled fighters moved in to claim victory.

The king moved closer, the prince tucked behind him; not quite as young as Blaine had imagined but small and wiry with wide eyes and an endearingly cute nose. And as Blaine watched the king shake hands and talk soothingly and press his palm to the heads of those who were too bad off to do either, his face drawn and solemn and genuine, he felt a swell of pride. 

“It is an honor serving you, your majesty,” Blaine enthused, bowing as best as he could folded up on his cot.

“Come on, now. None of that,” Burt clapped him on his good shoulder, “You alright? Recovering okay?”

“Yes, your majes- King Burt. I’ll be good as new and ready to fight any day now!”

King Burt chuckled. “Eager. Okay, you rest up and get better and hey. Thank you, for your sacrifice. It means a lot to me, to my son.” 

Blaine ducked his head and nodded as King Burt moved on to the next bed, Burly giving him some dramatic sob story about his mortal shin wound, King Burt thanking him kindly and moving on quickly. Smart.

The hall was buzzing with activity now, nurses returning to their stations and everyone in the recovery hall seemed much less morose than usual, spirits temporarily lifted by the king’s gratitude. And if he hadn’t been sure before, Blaine knew now that joining the forces at such a young age, putting his life on the line to protect the kingdom, the king, the prince, had been the best decision of his life.

“Where did the kid run off to? I wanted to see for myself,” Burly grunted, flashing a yellow-toothed smile in Blaine’s direction. “You know what they say about him, right? He’s delicate. Fancy. Bit odd…dresses funny…if you get my drift.”

Blaine stood abruptly, ignoring the pain, god why they had confiscated his sword, not to kill, no, but he could take the blunted handle and bust in this idiot’s voice box and do the world a favor, why are some people allowed to speak?

“He is a child, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Blaine snapped the curtain between them, fluttering soft and pointless, not enough but a sheet of iron wouldn’t be enough, then rolled his good shoulder to loosen some of the rage building in his veins. He tipped his head to the side, left side good, right side, pain, ow, then noticed behind the other partition, an empty cot behind it, a pair of wide blue eyes and half of a fair-skinned frowning face peeking out.

“It’s true, you know.” He said, voice high and breathy and tenative. “I am…odd. And delicate. I know what they all think about me. They’re right.”

Blaine sat on the edge of his cot, motioned the boy closer. “You don’t look delicate to me. In fact I think you look pretty tough. Let me guess…” Blaine tapped a finger on his lips as the boy sat down carefully at the end of the cot. “You’re an expert with a crossbow. I never could get the hang of those things, myself.”

The boy shook his head, then looked down shyly, bunching the corner of the pilling brown blanket heaped by his leg. “No. I am pretty good with a sword, though.”

“Ah! Of course, I should have known. You look like a swordsman.”

“Really?” Eyes rounded with hope, pink lips parted.

“Oh, definitely.”

He smiled, “I’m Kurt. Well. Prince Kurt, I guess.”

“I know,” Blaine winked. 

Prince Kurt blushed and looked away, biting his lip before asking, “What happened to you? Are you badly injured?”

Blaine pointed to his immobilized arm, wrapped tight with bandages over his bare torso. “Nah. Just an arrow to the shoulder, slid right between the armored plates, can you believe it? Poor design if you ask me. I’ll be back to do battle in no time.”

“Do you like it?” 

“Fighting?” 

Kurt shook his head quickly. “No one likes fighting.” His eyes flicked to the cot concealed by the hastily drawn sheet. “Or at least they shouldn’t. I mean- Being a knight. Do you like it?”

“I do. I like that I’m helping people, protecting the kingdom. Making a difference. And I’m not just saying that because you’re the prince.” Blaine moved back on the cot, twisting his left side against the wall to fully face Kurt. “Though I have to be honest. The food is awful. What I wouldn’t give for steak or Oh! Pie. Mmmm, pie.”

Kurt laughed, a soft trill of a giggle, then covered his mouth like he hadn’t meant for it to happen. 

“So. Do you like being a prince?”

“I-” Kurt paused, eyebrows drawn low and mouth pressed into a line and he looked so young and so old at the same time in that moment that it made Blaine’s heart clench in his chest. “No one’s ever asked me that before. It’s nice, I guess. Lonely, sometimes.” 

And then he looked young, only so, so young and Blaine was struck with the need to bundle him up and take care of him and make sure he let out as many unabashed giggles as he wanted to. It was silly. Blaine wasn’t even that much older than the prince and here he wanted to tuck him under his wing like a mother hen.

There was bellow of the prince’s name in the king’s gruff voice, and Kurt’s head snapped up. 

“I have to go,” He stood, then turned to Blaine and gave a rather endearing curtsey in his direction. “It was nice to meet you…um…”

“Blaine.”

“Sir, Blaine.”

Blaine bowed, “It was my pleasure, Prince Kurt.” Kurt blushed again and tuned to go, looking over the sharp bend of his shoulder briefly and grinning broadly after Blaine called out - loud enough for Burly and the entire recovery hall to hear- “Don’t listen to those idiots. There is nothing wrong with you and nothing wrong with being a little different.”

He would know.

Blaine settled into a semi-comfortable position on the cot, ignoring the glares and whispers, he was past the point of caring, let them think whatever they want to, he could endure it, had endured it.

But he really only had to deal with a few hours of it, all slights forgotten when food trays came out bearing not the usual gray gruel that somehow tasted even worse than it looked, but fat steaks and roasted potatoes and slices of cherry pie from Prince Kurt to all the brave knights.

Only Blaine’s had a towering pile of steamed broccoli, however, and a note sealed with purple wax and stamped with the royal emblem that Blaine read as a nurse cut up his steak and Blaine’s mouth watered. 

I hope you enjoy your steak and pie, but please eat all of your vegetables.

They are very important for staying healthy and strong.

So is avoiding arrows.

~Kurt


	2. Chapter 2

He’d seen the castle from a distance, of course, could close his eyes and see the four points of the towers with their sloping rooftops, the thick-stoned curtain walls with flowering ivy climbing and curling up them. The heavy drawbridge; the imposing keep rising from the the back corner, and the red and black flags whipping in the wind around the entirety of the perimeter. He’d squinted his eyes and stared at it from the distant farm lands, daydreaming. Sat up in his bunk in the knight’s quarters down below, watched the flickering lights in the window, unable to believe he was really there, really that close.

 

Blaine heaved a deep breath and straightened out his cloak across his shoulders, crossed the thick beams of the bridge, his boots making a solid thump, thump, thump announcing his arrival.

The two hulking guards in the entryway lowered their lances in a cross to block Blaine’s path. He bowed.

“I’m here for the for the king’s request of a personal guard for his son.” 

Blaine looked up with a start. He was pretty sure one of the grim-faced men snorted. But they both just nodded and lifted their weapons, moving to the side so he could enter.

“Good luck,” one of them called, and Blaine didn’t quite know what to make of his tone. He paused just inside the castle wall, taking in the expanse of green grass separating the various sections; stables with gleaming white stallions snuffling and whinnying. Several watchtowers positioned over the high walls. Servants quarters, a kitchen, a chapel, then the large main living area of the castle. Blaine figured that was the best place to start.

He stepped inside the front hall, footsteps echoing, looking around and trying to take everything in. The inside was elegant and regal but not too much, not ostentatious or gaudy. He was transfixed for several long moments by the stained glass windows lining the vast hallway and stretching beyond a marble staircase, so overwhelmed by the quiet beauty of the colors that he almost ran right into the young man quickly descending the steps, all long-limbs and fluid motion, muttering quietly to himself, face drawn together and oh-

Gorgeous.

“Excuse me,” Blaine said. “I’m here for the position of the prince’s personal guard, do you happen to know where I’m supposed to go?”

The young man paused on the stairs, looking down at Blaine with his mouth parted and eyes wide for a moment before his face clouded over and he crossed his arms defiantly.

“I do not need a babysitter. I am not a child,” He snapped.

“Oh, you’re-” And Blaine bowed again, head bent low. “Forgive me, I didn’t recognize you Prince Kurt. You’ve grown.”

“Yes. Thank you. Yes I have grown.” He said it over-loud, projecting his voice up the stairs. 

Blaine could hear a shuffle of movement from the top of the staircase, then the king’s voice, exasperated. “I get it, okay. You aren’t happy about it. Pretty sure they can hear you sulking down in the village, Kurt, enough.” Kurt gasped in protest and Blaine tried valiantly to keep the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth away. “Excuse me for wanting to keep you safe. Maybe if you stopped wandering off at all hours of the day and night-”

“I’m bored! You expect me to hang around here all the time with only my tutor to talk to? The horses are more intellectually stimulating than Schuester, Dad, honestly.”

The king sighed and Blaine figured it best to keep his head bent low as the king descended the stairs and approached, rested a warm hand on Blaine’s shoulder.

“You here for the guard position?”

Blaine rose slowly, nodded. “Yes, your majesty.”

“You still want it after all that?” The king jerked his head to the side and waved a hand at Kurt; his body drawn into hard lines and sharp angles, chin titled up. Kurt flicked a look at Blaine, and Blaine was sure he saw a moment of recognition before he looked away again. 

But Blaine remembered soft sea-blue eyes, sad and resigned and far to world-weary for a child. Remembered a wide smile and a laugh that escaped unbidden. Remembered a little boy who spoke of loneliness and the burden of other people’s judgement. Blaine swore he would do whatever it took to help that little boy. And this was his chance. 

Even if he wasn’t so little anymore.

“Yes, your majesty,” Blaine answered.

King Burt clapped him on the back, “You’re hired. Kurt show him to his room.”

Blaine watched, stunned, as the king turned away with a sweeping of robes and headed farther down the hall, where the smells of dinner cooking had begun to fill the air with rich scents that made Blaine’s stomach rumble.

Kurt called to his retreating back, “Dad, you don’t know anything about him! What if he’s here to torture me! What if he’s some kind of sorcerer come to turn me into a frog?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” King Burt called back and Kurt let out an indignant huff, then turned on his toes and stomped up the stairs. Blaine followed behind him and tried not to laugh out loud. He mostly failed.

They traveled down a dizzying set of long hallways with quick tuns and more stairs until they arrived at a wing of the castle decorated with dark blue rugs spread over the stone floors and multi-colored tapestries hung from the high ceiling like cresting waves of the sea. It was brighter than the rest of the castle, homey and comfortable, and Blaine imagined Kurt spent a lot of time there.

Kurt opened a heavy wooden door to a room with a huge wrought-iron framed bed with silk curtains billowing from the top, soft plush carpeting and a row of windows taking up most of the far side wall. In the back corner was a smaller door and Kurt kicked it open, tipped his head toward the empty space behind it.

“Here you are. Hope you like pink.”

And that was the best way to describe the small bedroom attached to Kurt’s: Pink. Walls, carpeting, twin sized bed. Pink. 

Kurt stood outside the door, looking rather smug and amused by Blaine’s surprised expression. 

“Well, it beats rooming with two dozen men who seem to think bathing is some kind of affront to their masculinity.” Kurt’s nose wrinkled and Blaine chuckled. “Whose was it, before?”

“My nanny. She left to start her own family.”

Blaine stepped around the room in a wide arc, then sat on the bed and bounced a bit. Comfy. Kurt swallowed and looked away, trailing his hand up the door frame.

“You miss her?”

Kurt shrugged a shoulder. “She was pretty neurotic. Overprotective. Used to make me wash my hands like a million times a day, but yes.” Kurt sighed. “You don’t have to do this.”

Blaine stopped bouncing, pulled his feet underneath him. “Do what?”

“Pretend like you care about me.” Kurt drew himself up tight again, shoulders squared, like he could deflect whatever Blaine was going to say with perfect posture and a clenched jaw.

“I do care about you.”

“Why?”

Blaine stood up and Kurt shrunk back immediately, pressing his shoulder into the door frame and looking Blaine steadily in the eyes. So defiant, so brave, so guarded, and Blaine had to wonder just which one of them actually needed the protecting. He hadn’t expected Kurt to be so heartbreakingly beautiful.

“You really don’t remember me?” Blaine asked instead of answering Kurt’s question. Five years was a long time, but not terribly long. And Kurt had been young, but not that young. He’d really thought that they had a connection, that coming here would feel like being welcomed home.

Kurt hesitated, eyes roving over Blaine and for a moment his expression seemed to soften, before he flattened his lips and narrowed his eyes. “No. Sorry.”

Blaine sighed into the violent pink of his room after Kurt left without another word, and for the first time he wondered if he’d made a huge mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine had gotten exactly four words into a letter home: Dear Mother and Father, to be exact, before he gave up on it entirely and tossed the paper aside, then settled back against the headboard. 

He had no idea what to say. He hadn’t been home in so long he that didn’t even know what to ask them about, andhe had already written to tell them about the job. He couldn’t really tell them that he spent his days trailing Kurt like a cumbersome shackle, Kurt’s resentment like a physical being between them. How could he explain that he’d rather dodge arrows than Kurt’s piercing glares.

Blaine sighed heavily and squirmed down into the covers. He’d made a commitment to the king, regardless. Blaine was not going to give up, he didn’t care how much Kurt tried to ice him out. He’d once spent the entire month of February in a muddy pit awaiting and invasion that never came. He could handle icy. What he was having trouble with, however, was how much Kurt seemed to genuinely dislike him. 

The bright pink of the room seemed to glare past his closed eyes and haunt his dreams, so Blaine shoved his pillow over his face and tried to settle in for the night, when he heard a thud from Kurt’s room.

Blaine was up in a flash, snatching his sword from its holder in the corner and crossing the room in three quick strides, flinging the door open to find-

Nothing. 

Kurt’s room was quiet and still, soft moonlight spilling from the row of windows into the darkness. His bed was unmade and empty, no sign of movement as Blaine cased the room, with a crack of light just visible through the slightly ajar door from the hallway.

Sword raised, Blaine crept along the hallway, torches flickering brightly high along his path; the entire castle was silent. Still. Blaine reached the end of Kurt’s wing, cocked his head and held his breath- there. Footsteps. 

He quickened his pace, feet hitting the cool marble of the spiral staircase, goosebumps raising on his arms and chest as he hit the chilled night air, barely registering the fact that he was only in his breeches, but if Kurt was in danger that was all that mattered.

Over the bridge and then onto the dewy grass, Blaine spun in a circle, eyes narrowed. A horse down in the stable stomped and snuffled, and lilting voice murmured in response. Blaine dropped his sword, braced himself and crossed the clearing.

“He’s beautiful.”

Kurt looked up with a start, one hand paused on the horse’s white flank, the other held tight to the horn of a black saddle. He stood frozen, eyes wide, before clearing his throat and stepping back away from the horse.

“You scared me.” He was fully dressed, tight suede pants and knee high boots, dark green tunic, slate gray cloak pulled over his broad shoulders. He looked gorgeous, as usual, Blaine couldn’t help but notice.

“Sorry. I heard you leave, thought you might be in trouble.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, then stepped out of the stall, latching the door behind him. “I’m fine. Just like always,” he muttered, then stopped short after stepping into the moonlit night outside of the stable. His mouth parted slightly and his eyes roamed over Blaine’s body like he was starved for it.

“Uh. Didn’t really have time to get dressed,” Blaine explained, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

That seemed to snap Kurt back to attention. He schooled his face into the usual mask of cool disdain and spun on his heel to march back into the castle. 

“If you wanted to go for a ride, I can come with you. You don’t have to go back,” Blaine called. Kurt stiffened and kept walking. “Or we could just spend some time together?”

Kurt stopped, turned back around with a hardened expression. “I don’t need your pity.” 

“Pity? Kurt, why are you being so difficult? It’s kind of my job to spend time with you, may as well enjoy it,” Blaine said, throwing his hands up and running to catch up with him.

“Right. It’s your job. You don’t want to spend time with me, you have to spend time with me. Just like everyone else.” Kurt’s voice broke at the end and he looked up at the star-soaked sky, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’m here because I actually care about you?” He reached out to touch Kurt’s arm only to have Kurt jerk away like he’d been burned. 

Because-” Kurt started, then faltered, mouth forming around words that seemed to catch in his throat, before finally looking back at Blaine, shoulders slumping, hunching in on himself. “Because of all the ways I imagined you coming back to find me, this was never the one I wanted.”

“But,” Blaine shook his head, stepped closer to Kurt, felt like a moth drawn to flame, helpless and mesmerized, “you said you didn’t remember me.”

“I lied.”

On the walk back to their rooms Kurt looked smaller. Younger. And seemed to be exhausted by finally letting his walls down and confessing. Blaine knew what it must have cost him to allow his vulnerability to show, to let Blaine in. And Blaine was determined to prove that he was worthy of Kurt’s trust in him.

“You really came here for me?” Kurt asked in a small voice, slumping against the mound of pillows on his bed and blinking slowly up at Blaine.

“I really did.” Kurt smiled sweetly and Blaine saw him there: that little boy who had captured his heart. He looped an arm around Kurt’s back and settled him down into his bed, pulled the covers over him.

Kurt’s eyes fluttered shut and he mumbled, “Will you stay?”

Blaine sat on the edge of the bed, smoothed Kurt’s hair off his head, “Of course.”


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine stretched and sighed, throwing an arm over his face to shield his eyes from the glare of sunlight and burrowed down further into the blanket. He knew he should get up, check on Kurt then get ready for the day; the last thing he wanted was for the king to think he wasn’t completely dedicated to this job. But the bed was so comfortable, like it had somehow gotten even softer and warmer. Blaine curled to his side and instinctively shuffled closer to the heat radiating from the other side of the bed. 

 

More warmth. Then smooth and soft, and what smelled so good? Then a grunt and a moan and Blaine found himself being held tightly by strong arms, flexing thighs slotting between in own. It had been so long since Blaine had been with anyone, been touched and held and kissed, and his hips pressed forward before his mind had a chance to catch up with what was happening.

“Oh!”

Blaine clambered off the bed, the sheet catching around his legs and twisting, and he tumbled to the floor, banging his hip and elbow then cursing repeatedly under his breath at the sharp burst of pain.

“Are you okay?” 

Kurt’s wide eyes blinked at him over the edge of his high bed, hair mussed from sleep and face flushed pink.

“I- Yeah. I’m fine. Are you? I’m so sorry, Kurt.”

Kurt’s head disappeared from the side of the bed, and Blaine took several deep breaths to calm himself from both the throb of pain from his injures and the throb between his legs, then stood carefully, afraid that he would spook Kurt after finally getting through to him last night. But Kurt was sitting up hunched over, hands curled in the sheets over his lap, head bent low.

“I should be sorry, not you.”

“No. God, I didn’t realize it was you. I mean, I did. Just-” Blaine huffed out a breath and ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. “It was completely inappropriate for me to fall asleep in your bed and then…do that. I hope you can forgive my behavior.”

“Blaine, it’s fine,” Kurt mumbled to his lap.

“It’s really not. You’re the prince and it’s my job to protect you, not fall asleep in your bed and practically maul you in your sleep, I just-”

“Blaine,” Kurt cut off loudly, and Blaine snapped his mouth closed. “It’s fine. I-” He sighed, then moved his hands away and gestured helplessly to his lap, and oh. The sheet was tented up over his groin, to Kurt’s obvious embarrassment. “Clearly I didn’t mind.” 

He covered his face with his hands and groaned, slumping over. “This is humiliating.”

“Hey, no,” Blaine said gently, sitting sideways on the edge of the bed and trying to pull Kurt’s hands away. Kurt shook his head and groaned again. “It’s totally normal. I mean, when I was sixteen it felt like it happened almost constantly. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I know,” Kurt said, then slowly pulled his hands away. “I know about the mornings and, urges and the like. My dad gave me some books- god talk about humiliating. That’s not the problem.”

Blaine furrowed his brows, shifting so he could get closer to Kurt. “What is the problem?” he asked softly.

Kurt swallowed, twisted the sheet in his hands, then turned to search Blaine’s face. “For some reason I feel like I can trust you.” 

“You can,” Blaine answered quickly. “I told you, I’m here because I care about you. I would never betray you.”

“Okay,” Kurt lifted his eyes up to meet Blaine’s finally, that shifting blue-green that brought Blaine’s breath up short. “The problem is these urges…They’re not about meeting a beautiful girl and living happily ever after. They’re about men. Being with men.” Kurt blew out out a breath and seemed to draw in on himself further.

Blaine hesitated as Kurt squirmed uncomfortably, no longer hard under the sheet and miserable. He knew it was important to be honest with Kurt, how could he expect Kurt to trust him if he didn’t trust Kurt in return? It was just that for so long Blaine had needed it to not matter. For people to not see him any differently, as a knight, as a man, that it became this quiet part of him. Not a secret, just not something he went around telling anyone who didn’t need to know.

But Kurt needed to know.

“Me too,” he said, cleared his throat when it came out high and strained. “I mean, I’m the same as you, Kurt.”

Kurt’s mouth opened in a rounded o, eyebrows shooting up. He was expecting Kurt to be relieved or maybe ask him what it was like for Blaine when he was younger, or even any advice Blaine had on coming to terms with it. He was not expecting Kurt to clasp his hands together and grin hopefully.

“You’ve been with men before, then?” He asked.

“Um. A few? Not- not like everything, but-” Blaine stumbled out. Memories of hands and mouths behind abandoned barns or in a freezing cold tent waiting for an approaching force, lonely and scared and just seeking a moment’s comfort, never to be spoken of again.

“You could teach me!” Kurt chirped. He threw off the covers and stood, still in his clothes from the night before, then Blaine realized with a start that he was still just in his breeches.

“Kurt, I can’t-”

“You are here to help me,” he pointed out. Kurt deftly unbuttoned his shirt, let it drop from his torso and Blaine felt dizzy and like he’d suddenly swallowed a mouthful of sand at the expanse of pale skin over taut muscle standing in front of him.

“To guard you. Not- Kurt. You’re sixteen and your father would probably lock me in the dungeons.”

“Oh he’s a big softie, he wouldn’t.” Kurt dropped his eyes low, blinking at Blaine through his eyelashes. 

Blaine pushed off the bed, backing up as Kurt approached, until he was pressed into the wall, traitorous heart pounding in his chest.

“Kurt we can’t.”

Kurt paused in front of him, jutting his lip out in a pout that had Blaine clenching his hands at his sides to keep from pulling him the last step closer and sucking it into his mouth. “You don’t find me attractive?”

Blaine could see the shift back to insecurity and embarrassment, Kurt’s shoulders dropped and he wrapped his arms over his chest, hurt flashing across his face. He should deny it, he could just stop this whole thing right now… 

“Of course I do, you’re beautiful,” he blurted, then squeezed his eyes closed.

“Then why not?” Kurt reached for him, but Blaine stopped him, hands coming to grip at Kurt’s biceps, he was so lithe and strong, and-

“Because it should mean something. Trust me I know. This isn’t something you want to do just to get it over with. It should be with someone special. It should matter, Kurt.”

Kurt’s eyes flicked over Blaine’s face, his body, his lips. “Who says you don’t matter?”


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt was so close. And so warm. And his skin was so soft. Blaine looked down with a start at his hands where they had come to rest on Kurt’s sides, fingers curled over his sharp hipbones.

Kurt’s breath hitched, head tipping to the side as he leaned in, and Blaine felt like he’d completely lost his grip on logic and common sense or just any sense at all, his body curving toward Kurt’s. Their lips brushed, just the barest of touches, when someone knocked loudly on the door.

“Prince Kurt, your bath is- Oh.”

Blaine straightened quickly, shoving off the stone wall behind him as Kurt jumped back and whirled around to the pretty blond girl standing in the doorway.

Kurt cleared his throat, tried his best to look casual despite being half-naked and flushed pink. “Thank you, Brittany.”

“Did your dad get you a knight to make out with?” Brittany asked (one of the castle staff, Blaine had seen her around a little.) “I’m so jealous, I wish I was a prince.”

Kurt huffed and shooed Brittany out of the room mumbling, “you really don’t,” before pushing the door closed. He paused with it open just a crack. “Britt, can you- not say anything about what you saw. Please?”

“Sure,” Blaine heard her say, then let out a long breath that he hadn’t been aware of holding. “I’m really good at keeping secrets.”

Once the door was closed Kurt slumped against it, then turned to Blaine with a grin. 

“Now where were we?”

Blaine backed away toward his room blindly, fumbled with the handle behind his back. “You go take you bath, I’m going to get dressed and meet you downstairs for breakfast.”

Kurt opened his mouth to reply, but Blaine didn’t give him the chance; ducking into his room and closing the door, collapsing down on his bed. What was he thinking? Blaine dropped his head into his hands, then stood up and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could be Kurt’s guard. He could be Kurt’s friend. He could push away the- the lust, that’s all it was. Kurt was attractive. And willing. And had the softest skin Blaine had ever touched, was it that soft all over his body?

No. Kurt was the prince. And sixteen years old. And somehow terrified Blaine more than an army of invading blood-thirsty barbarians twice his size and five times as hairy. 

He could do this.

Blaine stopped in the smaller washroom down the hall, not bothering to boil the water before hastily splashing it on his over-heated body, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. He hopped into his wool pants, his boots, then stumbled down the hall still tugging on his tunic. He just hoped Kurt was taking one of his longer baths this morning and he wouldn’t have to explain to the king why he was late. 

The kitchen had quickly become Blaine’s favorite parts of the castle. Not just because of the amazing food, though he was pretty fond of that, but the staff was kind and friendly and had welcomed Blaine with open arms right away. He felt…accepted.

“There he is! What kind of eggs do you want honey? I was just about to put some on.”

“I’m running late, Carole; I’ll just grab a roll, thanks.” 

The head cook clucked her tongue in disapproval, cracking four eggs into the sizzling pan before turning to face him with a hand placed on her hip. “At least put some meat in it, you’re so thin. They don’t feed you boys enough, I’ve been telling Bu- Uh, the king that for years.”

Blaine held his hands up in surrender, crossing the kitchen to get some ham and ripping a roll in half. “Morning Quinn,” he mumbled through a mouthful. Quinn pursed her lips, and Blaine swallowed the bite. “Sorry.”

She paused, setting a pale lump of kneaded dough on a pan, then turned to look at him, soft smile on her face, and flicked a glance up to the top of his head. “Trying something new with your hair?” 

Blaine’s hand flew up to touch the top of his head, and he groaned, “oh no.” It was mashed down on one side, a few curls flying haphazard at his temple, then fluffed up and frizzy on the other. 

“It’s not that bad,” Quinn tried to reassure. Blaine narrowed his eyes at the laugh that escaped when she attempted to fix it. 

Carole appeared at his side, making him finish his food and drink a glass of milk before steering him to the back door of the kitchen. “Fourth door on the left, my room, use whatever you need in the bathroom.” Blaine pushed open the door as she winked and called, “just in case you have someone you’d like to look nice for.”

As much as he wanted to stand in the hall to the staff quarters and try to figure out just what that meant- Did that mean something? Did she know? Did she think Blaine was interested in Kurt? Someone else? 

No. He didn’t have time. 

Carole’s room was small and simple, but homey. A soft bed along one wall, an overstuffed chair in one corner, table with two stools in the other, a bookshelf next to a thin door. Blaine opened it to reveal a steel basin on the floor and a low counter with a smaller one in the center, various bottles and tubes lined up on either side.

Blaine was intrigued, picking them up at random, then unscrewing caps and flipping open lids to sniff at the contents. Flowery and spicy, fruity and musky, he’d never seen so many lotions and salves and soaps and perfumes. Many of them had strange languages on them, their intended purpose a mystery to Blaine, and he wondered for a moment where Carole, who presumably rarely left the castle- and most certainly would never have left the kingdom- would have gotten them.

But he quickly remembered that he was in a hurry, snatching up somethingmade of beeswax and strange-sounding oils, and made quick work of rubbing some into his curls, before dashing off for the formal dining room.

“Dad, slow down! She’s not going to come back in here and take them away!” Kurt’s voice carried out into the hall, happy and relaxed, and Blaine felt instantly calmed.

“Muffins, Kurt! I thought I’d been cut off entirely!”

“Well, you will be if Carole catches you shoveling them in like a barnyard animal.”

Blaine slipped into the room, taking his position standing adjacent to Kurt’s high-backed chair, arms crossed behind his back, face impassive. 

Well, it had been impassive, until Kurt looked back and instead of his usual scowl and look of contempt, a slow smile spread across his face, tongue darting out to wet his lips purposefully. 

Blaine’s stomach dropped and lurched, either from the way Kurt was looking at him, or from the very real possibility that the king had seen it and could rightfully have Blaine drawn and quartered for kissing his son. Sort of.

“Good morning, Blaine.” Kurt said breezily, turning back to butter a roll.

Blaine’s mind blanked again, slumping out of his stance as the blood drained from his face, before getting a hold of himself and straightening back into position to respond mildly, “Good morning your highness.”

Kurt made a pleased humming sound and King Burt looked up from his pile of pastries to look back and forth from Kurt to Blaine then back again before shrugging. “Getting along better, then?”

“Yes,” Kurt said, voice high and breathy and deceptively innocent. “In fact Blaine agreed to show me some of his sword fighting tips today, isn’t that right Blaine?”

“I-” Kurt looked entirely too pleased with himself, so Blaine took a steadying breath before replying. “That’s right. Kurt asked for my…field expertise.” He could do this, keep it casual, keep Kurt reined in.

“That’s a great idea. Kurt you could use some lessons from someone with experience, instead of just whipping your sword around all by yourself.”

Kurt dipped his head, looking sideways at Blaine with lowered eyes, one side of his mouth lifted up. Blaine felt hot all over, dizzy and light-headed. Maybe he should have eaten some eggs after all.

“Oh, I plan on having Blaine show me a lot of things.”

After Blaine excused himself from the room, passing off the wheezing sound he’d made as a coughing fit, he followed Kurt back upstairs to retrieve their swords, then down to the larger stable outside of the main curtain wall, empty at this time of day while the horses were out to pasture.

“I should warn you, I’m pretty good,” Kurt trilled. Blaine shifted on his toes, his sword a comforting weight in his hands, forced himself to focus, to concentrate, as Kurt bent at the knees and brandished his sword in front of him.

“So am I,” Blaine felt the need to say. He was a trained knight.

“Mmm,” Kurt said, raised an eyebrow and flicked the sword. “Alright then, a wager: When I win, I get to kiss you. If you win,” and he smirked, stepped forward, “You get to kiss me.”

Blaine sighed, whipped his head around to be sure no pages or stablehands were in earshot. “Kurt, can you please be careful. I know this is a fun game for you but for me- This is my life. My livelihood. I worked really hard to get here, okay?”

He tried to say it gently, pleadingly. But Kurt’s face fell anyway, shoulders drawing up and chin lifting. Blaine had seen it as protecting, guarding, this closing off he did. But it wasn’t, not quite. It was containment. When Kurt felt the need to keep his feelings tucked safely to his chest. 

“I don’t think it’s a game.” Then he lunged forward, sword coming down with his face set in determination. Blaine stepped back on his right foot, caught Kurt’s sword above his head, then pushed it down and away.

“Whatever it is then,” Blaine said before crossing his sword in front of him and putting Kurt on the defense. Pushing and striking with clangs of metal and grunts and puffs of breath.

“What it is-” Kurt gritted out, frustrated at his inability to keep up, being pushed further and further back with every block and strike of Blaine’s sword. “Is that I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

Kurt’s back hit the wooden boards in a dusty corner, surrounded by towering stacks of hay, cobwebs and dust climbing the high wall. 

“What?” Blaine stumbled back a little, Kurt’s chest heaving from exertion. “Kurt you were a little boy, you-”

“So children don’t know what love is?” He snapped, straightening and bracing himself. “I think I had a better idea of what it was then. It’s adults who are always complicating things.”

Blaine had spent five years working hard, climbing the ranks, waiting for his chance. All because of those blue eyes and lilting laugh that he couldn’t forget. He’d dedicated his life to the chance of being the one to keep him safe and happy, to see that smile on his face. 

Was that not love? 

Kurt’s sword was resting with the pointed tip on the ground, face turned away defiantly, arms dropped in defeat. He was vulnerable and unaware and Blaine could win easily, could end this all here.

Instead he stumbled backward, lost his grip on his sword, Kurt snapping back to attention at the clattering of it onto the dirt floor. He was a fast learner, crossing to Blaine in two quick strides, then pressing the broad side of his sword across Blaine’s chest and spinning to slam him up against the wall.

Blaine’s breath punched out of him, but he smiled. “You win.”

Kurt searched his face, swallowed. “You let me.”

Blaine didn’t answer, just kept smiling as Kurt leaned in, closed his eyes. Then his lips pressed to Blaine’s, dry and gentle and unsure; just held there. Blaine didn’t move, didn’t pull away or push forward, wanting to let Kurt decide. If this was what he really wanted or- 

Or not.

Kurt sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, then moved closer to mash his lips harder against Blaine’s, dropped his sword and gripped at Blaine’s arms. The air came back to Blaine’s lungs in a gasp. He slid one hand along Kurt’s jaw, tilting his head and parting his own lips. Kurt responded quickly, opening his mouth and sucking at Blaine’s top lip before pulling away.

“Was that-”

“Yes,” Blaine reassured, stroking at a cheekbone with his thumb. “For you?” Kurt nodded shyly, cheeks red, eyes bright. Blaine added, “You’re a fast learner.”

Kurt brought his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, a look of bewilderment and disbelief and something just a little coy on his face. And in a husky voice that sent sparks of heat through Blaine’s body replied, “I don’t know. I could probably use more practice.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I cannot believe he made me recite Latin roots in limerick form,” Kurt sighed, sinking onto his bed and pulling off his boots. “And here I thought last week’s acting out The Odyssey with Shue’s insistence on casting himself as Penelope was bad.”

Blaine closed the door to Kurt’s room behind him, light brightly with flickering torches against the dark walls, sliding the heavy lock into place with a scraping of metal. “I enjoyed it, personally. I’ve really learned a lot these past few weeks.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, then lowered them, blinking up at Blaine. “I can think of much better things to be doing with my time.”

“Your education is important Kurt,” he hummed, walking closer and leaning down to brush a soft kiss against his lips, then backing off. Kurt pursed his lips and grabbed for Blaine’s waist, but he ducked away with a chuckle. “Uh-uh, get ready for bed first.”

Kurt frowned, then got up with a sigh to sit at his vanity, grabbing a dampened cloth and rubbing it in circles over his face.

“I never finished school,” Blaine said softly, settling on the edge of Kurt’s bed to wait. “Left home at fifteen to be a squire.”

Kurt set down the cloth, picked up a tub of something beige and minty-smelling and started slathering it onto his skin. “Why did you join the forces?”

“I wanted to serve my kingdom, do something that mattered,” Blaine answered automatically.

Kurt turned to him, face covered in goop, mouth set into a line. “That’s very noble of you. So why did you actually join?”

Blaine wondered how Kurt managed to look intimidating instead of ridiculous like that, turning back to get another cloth and wipe his face clean. Blaine leaned back on his hands, looking up at the high ceiling before answering.

“It was hard, for me. Growing up where I did and being-” Blaine looked back over, Kurt patiently watching him from the stool. “Being different.” Kurt tipped his head, picked up another bottle. “I didn’t really have much of a choice. I was afraid that if I stayed they would-” Blaine cut himself off at Kurt’s pained expression, hand frozen on his own cheek, eyes wide. “Come here,” Blaine beckoned.

Kurt smiled then settled on the bed next to him, head tipped onto Blaine’s shoulder. “That’s in the past, okay? What matters is that I’m here and I’m happy,” he squeezed Kurt’s knee. “These past weeks- You make me so happy, Kurt.”

Kurt shifted to face him, so serious and so sweet all at once, cupped Blaine’s face in his hands and said in a low whisper, “do you have any idea how much I hate that I have to wait all day to kiss you?”

Kurt’s mouth pressed to his felt like coming home after a long, difficult day. His arms around Blaine’s shoulders a refuge. Soft sighs puffed out on Blaine’s skin like a salve. Blaine’s hand ran up Kurt’s thigh to his waist and then spread flat across the small of his back, pulling him down onto the plush mattress, chest to chest, legs intertwined.

They had spent every night since that first kiss like this, kissing soft and slow, luxuriating in each other; just the slip and slide of lips and tongues until Blaine would pull away, kiss Kurt quickly on the nose and try to avoid walking too awkwardly back to his room gulping the cool air in an effort to calm down. Or, more recently, finish himself off in bed, his face pressed into his pillow to muffle his moans.

“Okay,” Blaine said, pushing up on an elbow and scooting back. “Get some rest, you have that meeting you need to attend with your dad in the morning.”

But instead of pouting in a way that Blaine guilty found far, far too sexy; Kurt grabbed onto Blaine’s tunic and pulled him back, commanding, “stay.”

“Kurt, I don’t think-”

“Please,” Kurt pleaded. “I can’t sleep without you here and I- I want more.” Kurt’s fists clenched against the fabric of his shirt, voice going thready and rough, “I need you.”

“Kurt,” Blaine breathed, capturing his mouth once again, harder now, Kurt whimpering and pulling Blaine impossibly closer. Blaine trailed his lips down to Kurt’s jaw, open mouthed and sucking, moving to his neck to find where Kurt just tasted like skin and salt and Kurt instead of fancy creams and lotions.

When Blaine licked and sucked at the spot right behind Kurt’s ear, the taste and smell of him there intoxicating, Kurt threw his leg over Blaine’s hip, and Blaine buried his face in Kurt’s neck with a quick intake of breath.

Kurt was fully hard, shifting restlessly with uncoordinated thrusts of his hips against Blaine’s side. Kurt’s whimpers were getting higher and breathier, wanton and desperate.

“Shh hey,” Blaine soothed, moving back against the mattress and pulling Kurt on top of him to settle between his spread legs. “Like this.” Blaine leaned up to kiss him again as he slid both palms down to cup Kurt’s ass, pushing up, then down in a steady rhythm, cocks aligned perfectly as Blaine’s eyes rolled back in his head and Kurt groaned into his mouth.

“Ohhhh…Blaine,” Kurt’s hips worked down harder, faster and Blaine had to tear his mouth away and bite hard into his own lip to keep from coming first and thoroughly embarrassing himself. But the flex of rounded muscle under his hands and the hot, hard length of Kurt rubbing so perfectly against his aching cock was too much, it was so good. 

He dropped his head to Blaine’s shoulder and cried out, cock pulsing just before Blaine felt the unmistakable spread of warmth, and Blaine thrust up hard, threw his head back and arched as he came; Kurt sighing blissfully into his bared throat.

Kurt was slumped heavily on top of him, breath evening out. Everything felt hazy and slow, like a fog had settled over his buzzing skin, fingers stroking slowly against Kurt’s back.

“That was…” Kurt murmured, moving away to flop down next to him, Blaine’s arm falling uselessly to Kurt’s chest.

Blaine managed to grunt in agreement. Kurt laughed briefly, then cut himself off, sitting up with a grimace. 

“Should we clean up or? I mean I want to hold you but-” He gestured to his lap, Blaine’s sluggish brain struggling to comprehend.

“Oh! Kurt, I’m sorry. Let me get you a cloth,” Blaine heaved himself off the bed, legs a bit shaky, grabbing two towels then crawling back, chagrined. That was Kurt’s first sexual experience ever and there he was behaving like a barbarian, drowning in his own selfish pleasure. “I’ll let you clean up and change.”

Blaine ducked into his room, undressing then swiping the cloth over himself, wondering if he’d pushed or missed a signal, or if Kurt hadn’t even wanted that at all- He shook himself out of his panic, pulling on new breeches before padding back into Kurt’s room, ready to reassure or explain that it was perfectly normal to get carried away. That they could go back to just kissing if he wanted.

“Kurt, I-” Blaine stopped dead in his tracks, all the torches in the room were snuffed out, just the gentle glow of moonlight through the windows playing over the expanse of Kurt’s pale body, stretched out languidly across his bed. Blaine momentarily forgot how to breathe, his heart stuttering and his cock twitching painfully in his pants. “Look at you.”

Kurt smiled lazily, patting the bed next to him until Blaine obediently slipped in next to him. All worry and tension fading as Kurt pulled him close. Blaine nestled down against his chest, the comforting pulse of Kurt’s heart quickly lulling him to a peaceful sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

He woke to the press of Kurt’s lips across his shoulders, up the nape of his neck and onto his ear, then whisper soft against his lips. Floating in the space between dreams and reality, Blaine smiled at the tingle on his skin left in the wake of Kurt’s mouth.

“Blaine,” he whispered, nudging Blaine over onto his back, then burying his face under Blaine’s chin and breathing deep.

He draped his arms over Kurt’s back, sleep heavy and slackened, one hand skimming the sweet dip of his spine, the silky skin of his ass. Blaine hummed happily, skated his fingers over the curve of it, kept his eyes closed.

“Blaine,” Kurt tried again, a whine creeping into his voice. Blaine cracked an eye open, blinked and squinted, then finally focused on Kurt’s face hovering above his, eyes heavy lidded in the soft morning light. The blankets were twisted and flung haphazard across the bed, pooling high on Kurt’s thighs, and all of Kurt was like a soft-focus dream; sloping muscles and pale skin awash in golden beams of sunlight. 

Blaine pushed a hand through Kurt’s sleep-mussed hair, cupped his cheek. He ran the backs of his fingers across the long column of his neck, over his shoulders, then slid his palm wide down Kurt’s back, pushed the rest of the blankets away from his endless legs, one bent in an angle towards Blaine. 

Blaine flicked his eyes up to check for any uncertainty, but found only softly parted lips, eyes fluttering open and closed, and Blaine slipped his hand over to run up the inside of Kurt’s thigh, stopping to rest just below his balls with a intake of breath.

“Alright?” Kurt nodded quickly in response, bit his bottom lip until Blaine sealed his own lips around it and tugged.

“Can I-” Kurt released his clenching hold on the sheet under Blaine’s head, hovering his hand over the laces of Blaine’s breeches. “I want to see you.”

Blaine smoothed his thumb over and over the tender skin in the crook of thigh and groin as Kurt fumbled with the leather strings, then he lifted his hips and wriggled out of his clothes, Kurt letting out a near-reverent oh as Blaine’s cock jutted up, flushed and swelling under Kurt’s intense gaze.

Kurt moved to his side, curled around Blaine’s body and rested his head on Blaine’s chest. His touch was tentative, curious, one finger running up the length of Blaine’s cock, circling around the head, then pressing into the slit, making Blaine’s hips jerk, seeking more.

“Do you touch yourself Kurt?” He asked, swallowing against the desire thickening his throat.

“Yes,” Kurt breathed.

“Good,” Blaine replied, clutching Kurt closer, one arm snug around his waist. “You can touch me just like that.”

His hand curled around Blaine’s cock, he could feel Kurt’s heart beating double-time to the motion of his fingers working up and down the length, and Blaine’s eyes slipped closed again, awake now but still floating; pleasure spreading honey-slow through his veins.

Kurt’s breath panted hot against Blaine’s skin, never moving his head from the center of Blaine’s ribs to watch the flick of his own wrist, the slip of Blaine’s cock. Blaine’s orgasm crept up slowly, pulling every muscle tight, hips lifting as he groaned and Kurt gasped, and the gentle waves of bliss crested and crashed and consumed him.

When he opened his eyes again the morning was brighter, everything clear and shifting into sharp focus. Kurt lifted his head, looked from Blaine’s face to his softening cock, to his own hand covered in ropes of come, and grinned.

Blaine laughed then pounced, propping himself up and pushing Kurt down onto back. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Not a bad way to go,” Kurt quipped, looking back at his hand, then licking his lips. Blaine groaned and hauled his blissed-out body over Kurt’s, attaching his mouth to Kurt’s neck, then moving down to lick at a nipple, Kurt’s back arching, clean hand clenching in Blaine’s hair. 

He sucked once, then moved on quickly, Kurt huffing in protest until Blaine nosed into the thick thatch of hair at the base of Kurt’s cock, hard and long and perfect, moisture beading at the tip and Blaine couldn’t stop himself from swiping his tongue across to taste.

Kurt’s arms flung wide, legs bending at the knees and spreading wide as Blaine settled himself at the end of the bed, said, “Stop me if you don’t like it,” before taking Kurt into his mouth.

Kurt made a sound like a wounded animal, Blaine glancing up through his eyelashes as he sucked and dragged his lips up, swirling his tongue around and curling a hand at the base. Kurt looked down briefly before throwing his head back and gripping onto the thick iron slats above his head.

“Blaine, I can’t- I’m- Oh.” He babbled, and Blaine mmmm’d around his cock, sank his mouth down and swallowed when Kurt hit the back of his throat. Kurt cried out Blaine’s name, arched off the bed. Blaine moved with him, pulled up again as the first taste of salty-bitter flooded his mouth, throat working, swallowing as Kurt rocked his hips and dug his feet into the mattress, then collapsed with a gust of air.

They bathed separately, parting with flushed cheeks and soft smiles and kiss after kiss. Blaine dressed, cinched his belt low on his waist and secured his sword in place, remembering to check his hair before waiting for Kurt outside of his room.

Blaine’s breath caught as Kurt emerged in a deep purple shirt fitted to his torso and black leather pants with laces criss-crossing up the side. Blaine wanted to undo them with his teeth. Instead he settled for the brush of Kurt’s hand against his, the heat of their bodies bumping and nudging; the smile he gave Blaine before joining his father in the parlor that made Blaine’s stomach flip, his heart race.

“He likes you.”

Blaine startled, realizing that he’d been staring at the closed door with a lopsided grin on his face, then straightened his spine and turned to the boy (man?) positioned on the other side of the wide doorway.

“He’s been, uh-” Blaine pressed his back against the stone bricks behind him, stared blankly ahead then decided on, “very kind to me.”

“I’m glad. He gets lonely, you know. I try but I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m only being nice because I have to be,” Blaine heard shuffling, then looked over to see him sit on the ground. He was young, he must have been, baby faced but extraordinarily tall. “I guess I can see where he’s coming from.”

“Yeah,” Blaine replied, remembering Kurt’s disbelief that Blaine wanted to be there, how he shielded himself with anger and brittle contempt. 

“Anyway,” the other guard said, folding up his long limbs. “You should probably make yourself comfortable. Kurt gets really into planning these dances.”

“Dances?”

“Yeah. So he can pick a wife.”

Blaine only realized he’d sunk to the floor when his sword scraped harshly across the hard stone underneath, the vibrations of the impact rattling through his bones. Of course Kurt was expected to marry. He was the king’s only child. He had to produce an heir, Blaine knew that. So why did sit sickly in his gut, churning and twisting? 

For so long Kurt had been his future, his past, and now his present. Was this all he got then? This brief moment in time when Kurt was young and eager and free?

The time passed maddeningly slow, then altogether too quickly, Kurt bounding out of the room with a bright smile just for Blaine, waiting until they were around the corner to press a smacking kiss to Blaine’s cheek, then tugging him down the hall. So beautiful, so happy, chattering and laughing and Blaine wished he could capture the moment, tie it in a bundle and secure it to his belt to keep forever. 

“I was thinking black and gold for the color scheme…or is that too morose? Maybe burgundy? Oh! And a string quartet. And Caviar, oh Blaine you’ll love Caviar!” Kurt bounced ahead of him, clasping his hands together. Blaine mostly had no idea what he was talking about, but it thrilled him to see Kurt so happy all the same. “Blaine? Are you okay?”

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware that Kurt must have been asking his opinion on something from the tilt of his head, the lift of his eyebrows. 

“I’m great,” Blaine said. Kurt narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together, but then shrugged and started back down the hallway at the same brisk pace. “Everything is great,” Blaine muttered to himself, as if saying it again would make it true.

Blaine watched as Kurt disappeared around a corner, tamping down on the icy dread that settled in his belly at the sight of the empty space in front of him. Blaine took a deep breath, quickened his pace and set out to catch up with him, smile fixed firmly in place. If this was all the time he had with Kurt, then he was just going to have to make the best of it.


	8. Chapter 8

“Hmmm.” Kurt pressed a finger to his lips, squinted one eye, then the other; sighed and shook his head. “No.”

Blaine fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze, usually he loved when Kurt stared, transfixed and hungry and wanting. This was- unnerving, really. “Can’t I just-”

“Maybe a doublet…” Kurt said, mostly to himself, removing the vest from Blaine’s torso. 

“Can’t I just wear my tunic? It’s not like anyone will notice me anyway.”

“First of all,” Kurt said, voice muffled as he disappeared into the depths of his closet. “Of course people will notice you. Have you seen yourself? You know, we have these things called mirrors here in the castle. You should try one out, very enlightening.”

“Ha, ha,” Blaine replied, craning around rows after row of clothing and pushing aside a rack of waistcoats and frocks and long robes to see what Kurt was looking for now.

“Second of all,” Kurt continued, returning to the front of the closet with a measuring tape instead of yet another armful of clothing that he was bound to find unsatisfactory and toss in an ever-growing heap, just like all the others. “You are not wearing that ratty old thing to a royal ball, Blaine.”

Blaine frowned down at his tunic, pulling it away from his body then letting it swish back down. “Hey this tunic and I have been through a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” Kurt snapped the measuring tape tight, ordered, “hold out your arms.”

Blaine held still- or moved at Kurt’s muttered instructions- patiently allowing Kurt to fuss and work and scheme. Like he had at the meetings for seating and flower arrangements; for fabric swatches and paint samples and food tastings. (Blaine did not like caviar, which made Kurt click his tongue, but he loved trifle. Maybe a little too much given the rather embarrassing moan that escaped his throat and made Kurt blush.) 

Kurt hummed softly as he stood behind Blaine measuring across his shoulders and around his neck and chest. Then he snugged the tape around Blaine’s bicep, crowding in so close when moved in to measure Blaine’s waist and hips that he could feel the heat from Kurt’s body, the heady scent of him.

Blaine picked up the harmony of the high, lilting song to distract himself and Kurt paused and smiled, breaking out of his studious trance to tip his head up and meet Blaine’s eyes.

“Hi,” Blaine grinned.

“Hi,” Kurt echoed, pressing a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips, the vibrations of his song buzzing against them. Kurt broke the kiss and stepped back, darted his tongue out to wet his lips, then gracefully sank to his knees.

Blaine teetered on the spot, Kurt’s hand coming up to anchor his hip, gently admonishing, “Hold still.”

Kurt ducked down low, pulling the tape around Blaine’s thighs, then pulled it long from the inside of his ankle up to his groin. Blaine held his breath, tried to remain calm and relaxed. He’d never had a fitting before, there was no need to get excited just because Kurt was on his knees in front of him, warm hand passing high up on his leg and over to the other. Then cupping him, fingers rolling and gently squeezing.

Blaine’s breath shuddered out of him. “Do you, ah- Do you have everything you need for your plans?”

Kurt leaned back, straightened a bit to look up at Blaine and nibbled on his bottom lip. “Not quite.” He passed his palm over the front of Blaine’s pants, no longer needing permission, no longer hesitant, rubbing and pressing over the hardening length of Blaine’s cock. 

“Blaine?”

Blaine’s hands groped at nothing in the empty air, he swayed unsteadily again. “Hmm?”

“Remember what you did the other morning? With your mouth?”

Pressing, rubbing, shuffling forward until Blaine was backed against a row of clothes, he batted away sleeves and scarves, his head lolling down, struggling to focus on the words Kurt was saying and not the movement of his hand. “Yeah…”

“Is it difficult?” 

Like he was asking about a math formula, or Blaine’s opinion on chartreuse versus saffron for the napkin colors (Blaine had no opinion on napkin colors, for the record.) 

He reached down to place his hand over Kurt’s to stop the assault of pleasure-torture-burning so he could answer seriously. “It- It takes some practice. Just- Coordinating everything takes some getting used to.”

Kurt frowned, flexed his fingers around Blaine. “Oh.”

“But-” Blaine continued, lifting his hand to thread it into Kurt’s hair instead. “Enthusiasm counts for a lot. Something that you certainly have in spades.”

Kurt face broke into that smile, the smile Blaine kept tucked away, like candlelight in the darkest depths of himself. Kurt nodded once, then pulled on the leather cord at Blaine’s waist and pulled his breeches down just under his hips; cock hard and flushed and standing out, just centimeters from Kurt’s mouth.

He licked up the shaft first, soft flicks with the tip of his tongue, then dragged it slowly up the underside. 

“That’s good,” Blaine encouraged, sucked in a breath as Kurt’s lips wrapped softly around the head, suckled just the tip. “Just watch your teeth, and keep-uhn. Keep using your tongue.”

Kurt hummed in reply, fluttered his eyes closed and breathed in deeply through his nose before sinking his mouth down lower, then pulling back slowly and popping off to lick broadly around the base. He lapped at the slit, looking up at Blaine before curling his thumb and two fingers around the base. “Show me what you like.” His voice had already gone rough and low, weakening Blaine’s knees, one hand smacking against the wall, the other still resting lightly on the back of Kurt’s head.

Blaine tightened his grip in Kurt’s hair, pressed his head forward with just the very tips of his fingers; needing the velvet heat of Kurt’s mouth back on him, a groan rumbling out at the sight of his cock sliding once again into Kurt’s parted lips.

“That’s perfect, Kurt. You’re amazing,” Blaine praised, nudging him forward until he could feel Kurt’s throat flutter around him, then tugging back. Gently. So, so gently, like Kurt was precious and fragile as a butterfly’s wings; even though Blaine knew he was anything but.

He cupped Kurt’s chin, the length of his thumb along Kurt’s cheek where he could feel the movement of his cock thrusting in and out, faster and faster. Kurt was moaning and breathing hard through his nose, nostrils flared. Hand working Blaine over at the base as he sucked and bobbed, the other gripped tight to Blaine’s hip, fingers digging in. Bruising, even. At least Blaine hoped so.

“Kurt, I’m-” He tried to warn, everything building, his grip going tighter in Kurt’s hair. “Pull off, pull off, pull off, I’m-”

Kurt grunted, his other hand flying up to hold Blaine’s other hip, pushing him hard against the wall to keep him there, worked his mouth tight and wet and unrelenting. He sank down once more, his nose pressed to the thatch of hair below, throat clamping tight-

Then pulled away, gagging and coughing as Blaine came with a yelp.

Blaine struggled against the undertow of pleasure, forcing his eyes open and willing his brain to connect to his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. Are you okay?” Blaine dropped down, rubbed Kurt’s hunched back until he caught his breath.

“I’m fine,” Kurt settled back against his heels, red-faced and watery-eyed but pleased. “That was fun. Well most of it.” He gave a mournful look over to the pile of clothes next to them. “I really liked that vest.”

“I’ll clean it,” Blaine said, yanking his pants back up, then sitting down on the ground, heart still hammering. “Seeing as I, uh. Soiled it.”

Kurt laughed then, walked forward on his knees until he was straddling Blaine’s lap. “I can think of some other ways you can make it up to me. Since we’re already soiling clothes and everything.”

It didn’t take long after Blaine got Kurt’s pants open, shoving his hand inside the tight space and stroking quickly, for Kurt to start panting into his neck, then whimpering in little bursts of air before he bit down on Blaine’s shoulder and came hard. He sighed and mouthed lazily at Blaine’s skin, then snuggled down into his embrace.

“We really should do fittings more often,” Kurt said, rubbing his palm along Blaine’s arm, up to his shoulder, his neck; Kurt’s face smashed into his chest.

Blaine tightened his arms, pulled Kurt in closer. “I love you.”

“You do?” Kurt lifted his head, eyes bright and hopeful, and that smile and Blaine will never be able to deny this boy anything in his whole life, he is so gone.

“Kurt.” He shifted, turned so he could look into Kurt’s eyes, his long limbs tangled and clinging. “I will love you until the end of time. No matter what happens. I want you to know that.” 

Kurt blinked and frowned. “Why do you sound like you’re going somewhere?”

Blaine had to swallow against the tightness in his throat, pretend that his heart wasn’t fracturing along the seams, that he wasn’t counting down the minutes until Kurt would no longer be his. “I’m not. I’ll be here, as long as you want me.” 

Kurt kissed his lips, wiped away the moisture that Blaine hadn’t realized was gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Blaine. I’ll always want you.” Kissed him again. “Okay?” 

“Okay,” Blaine whispered. He held Kurt tight and wished, more than anything, that it was true.


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine waited at the bottom of the staircase, tugging at the high collar of his doublet and the cufflinks at his wrists; music and laughter and muffled voices floating down the hall from the grand ballroom. Kurt had called through the door of his room for Blaine to wait for him there, presumably to make a proper entrance. Blaine dropped his head and chuckled at the thought, then plucked at the seam of his thick leather pants, stiffer and tighter than what he was used to.

“Well don’t you look nice.” Kurt stepped down the winding stairs, elegant and regal in all white, with gold threaded in loops and curls throughout. There was gold accented at the edges, the collar, the belt. The crown at the top of his head. He looked like a prince. Blaine had forgotten.

“I should hope so, seeing as you designed my outfit yourself.” Kurt stopped in front of him, smoothed a hand over Blaine’s chest. “You look…Incredible.”

Kurt lifted his chin, then grinned and twirled, stopping close enough to lean in and whisper, “I have half a mind to skip this entire thing and lock you in my room so I can have my way with you.”

His breath was hot against Blaine’s ear, his hand stroking slowly at the nape of his neck. Blaine shivered and tried to protest, “You’ve been planning this ball for weeks, Kurt.”

Kurt shrugged. “The planning is the fun part. I could do without the rest. Honestly I’m surprised most of our guests stopped staring at their own reflections long enough to make the journey here.”

“Kurt, no. This is important.” He stepped back out of Kurt’s grasp, shook himself to focus. “This is about your future, and I- I won’t keep you from it.”

Kurt was a prince. He was a prince who had his duty to the kingdom, just like Blaine did. And Blaine would ensure that Kurt’s future was secure, no matter what. Even if it didn’t have him in it.

“Blaine, what is going on?” Kurt’s eyes narrowed, mouth flattened. He was the Kurt that Blaine hadn’t seen in a while, closed off and wary.

Blaine steadied himself with a breath. He owed Kurt the truth, at least. While he was still around to tell him. “Kurt, you have this…life. That you’re supposed to live. This destiny that I don’t fit into. Someday you’ll be king. And that- that means a queen and an heir and I-” Blaine looked away ashamed. “My duty is to stay by your side and protect you, but I can’t.” He met Kurt’s eyes, blinking away tears. “I can’t watch you live happily ever after with someone else. I’m sorry.”

Kurt’s stiff posture dropped, in relief or defeat, Blaine wasn’t sure. He strode closer, slipped his hand down Blaine’s arm to lace their fingers together. “But Blaine, don’t you see?” he asked softly. “Meeting you, when I was so young. Dreaming of you. Waiting for you to come back to me, like I knew- I knew you would. And then you did.” He brought Blaine’s hand up, kissed his knuckles. “You came for me, not because you had to like I was so afraid of, but because you wanted to. Even if I always pictured you riding up on a white stallion and whisking me away to your charming cottage in the forest.”

Kurt tilted his head and smiled and Blaine laughed despite himself, wiped away the tears with their joined hands. “I don’t even have a horse. I walked.”

“I guess I can overlook that,” Kurt said, catching Blaine’s other hand and settling them both on his waist. “The point is, you are my destiny. You always have been. You always will be.”

“But the ball and finding a wife, you have to.”

“My father understands that isn’t what I want. There are ways to work around it. All of that-” He waved a hand toward the cacophony of sound in the ballroom, “And that. It’s for show, it’s not real. We are real.”

Blaine felt freed, shackles loosening from his ankles; stocks releasing his wrists and neck. He crashed into Kurt’s body, mouths devouring, teeth clacking, stumbling and tripping. Kurt whimpered and pulled Blaine closer, arms winding around his shoulders, a thigh pushed between Blaine’s legs and they were really going to have to take this somewhere else and soon-

Someone cleared their throat from behind them. Blaine pulled back, Kurt chasing his mouth, lips meeting messily again-

“Ahem.” Louder. More obviously trying to get their attention.

Blaine finally registered who it was, fell to his knees in a bow and Kurt gasped out, “Dad!”

King Burt was also dressed in his finest, hidden back in the shadows, face unreadable. “Blaine I’d like to see you in the parlor,” he said before striding away, leaving Blaine to scramble to his feet and follow after him.

“Kurt, what are you doing?” Blaine hissed, jogging down a staircase and around a huge pillar.

“Fighting for us,” Kurt replied, entering the parlor and leaving Blaine no time to argue.

King Burt settled into a high-backed winged chair, gestured to the couch opposite. Carole was at the fireplace behind him, stoking the flames before coming to stand next to King Burt’s chair and giving them a reassuring smile.

King Burt began to speak-

“Before you start. I have something to say,” Kurt interrupted, barreling ahead before getting permission. “I pursued Blaine. I wanted this. If you’re going to punish him, then I should be punished as well. But I want to make sure you realize that I can make my own decisions. And if you expect me to run a kingdom someday, Dad, I think you should consider that I am not a child and I wish you and everyone else would stop treating me like one.” He turned to Blaine, rested a hand on his knee. “Blaine is the only person who sees me, really sees me. Like I’m a person and not the prince.”

King Burt sighed, settled back into his chair and waved a hand at Blaine. “You got anything to say?”

Blaine turned to Kurt, mouth moving without sound, before ducking his head and mumbling into his lap, “Forgive my insubordination, your majesty. But you should know that I love your son, and his happiness is all that matters to me.”

“Right, so. Are we done with our proclamations then?” Blaine looked up as King Burt crossed his arms, pressed his lips together. They both nodded. “Do you really think I can be king and not notice what is going on right under my nose? I see you two together. I know.”

Blaine dropped his gaze again, he knew he should feel shame or remorse, but he couldn’t. What he and Kurt had- It meant something. He would take his punishment. But he would also spend the rest of his life finding his way back to Kurt, no matter the consequences. 

“Blaine you’ll need to pack your stuff, there’s a room opening up in the staff quarters, and we’ll find you a new position here at the castle. I don’t really think it’s appropriate for you to be rooming right next to Kurt if you’re seeing each other. And as it turns out, Kurt doesn’t need a personal guard after all.” 

Blaine looked up in disbelief, Kurt grinning so hard his entire face was scrunched with it, King Burt looking back with a soft answering smile. Blaine gripped Kurt’s arm to ground himself. “Does that mean-”

“It means that my son is smart and strong and compassionate and determined. He’ll make a great king someday.” He stood and Kurt jumped up to embrace him. “I’m sorry for not giving you enough credit.” He thumped Kurt on the back, kept his arm around Kurt’s shoulders as he nodded to Blaine. “You make my son happy. You’re a good knight and a good man. And I-” He turned to look at Carole then, who pressed her fingers to her lips, eyes shining. “I maybe know a little something about finding love where you least expect it.”

He wasn’t sure how he made it back to Kurt’s room without floating away. But he was pretty sure Kurt pulled him along by his hand and laughed the whole way, plopped him down on the bed and sat next to him then removed his crown and started bouncing on the mattress and biting at his lip.

“What just happened?” Blaine said, coming out of his daze.

“I think the king has officially sanctioned our relationship.” Kurt bounced and smiled, tipped his head. “And I think he’s been secretly carrying on an affair with Carole.”

Blaine turned on the bed, gripped Kurt’s shoulders to stop his bouncing; he already felt like the world was shifting and swaying beneath his feet and Kurt wasn’t helping. “I didn’t even realize that, oh my god! I think I left my body for a while there…”

Kurt laughed, shimmying his shoulders and moving in closer. “Well, I hope you’re back in your body now because there are some things I’d like to do to it.”

“Oh really?” Blaine replied, leaning in to kiss him, then tackling him down to the bed just before their lips touched. “What did you have in mind?”

Kurt’s eyes darkened. He ran a hand down Blaine’s back then swallowed. “I want you to show me something new.”

“We’ve reached the end of my expertise I’m afraid,” Blaine draped his leg over Kurt and pressed his thigh into Kurt’s groin, interest just beginning to swell. “There is something, though. I haven’t done it, I just know about it.” He kissed Kurt, finally, just a soft brush of lips and whispered against them, “do you trust me?”

“Always,” Kurt answered.

He kissed down Kurt’s throat, opening buttons and pushing the silky material aside, then mouthed down the expanse of his chest and sucked at Kurt’s nipples before lifting his head to ask, “what do you use to make your skin so soft?”

“Are we really discussing body care products right now?” Kurt snapped, before breaking off with a moan and a gasp as Blaine rubbed him through his pants.

Blaine nipped at a hipbone, then pushed off the bed and walked over to Kurt’s vanity and picked up a bottle. “This one?” He pulled his own shirt over his head, set the bottle down. “Or this?” He tapped a tube, then shoved his pants off, relieved to be out of the stiff, restricting material.

“Come on, Blaine. Get back over here,” Kurt demanded, wiggling out of his own pants and shirt and folding them before setting them aside. Blaine just raised his eyebrows and Kurt huffed out, “the oil. Yeah that one.”

Blaine grinned. He’d been hoping it was that one. Blaine crawled back onto the bed, spreading Kurt’s legs wide before settling between them. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, amazed at the way Kurt looked, spread out and waiting and so, so trusting. Blaine coated his fingers in oil, kissed Kurt’s bent knee before sliding one finger in and watching Kurt’s face for any sign of discomfort.

Kurt sighed and relaxed as Blaine’s finger slipped in and out; gasped at the stretch of two. Blaine went slowly, caressing any part of Kurt he could reach with his other hand as he worked his fingers in and out of Kurt’s hole. When the muscles yielded finally, he hesitated, not wanting to hurt Kurt but knowing that getting him stretched and open was important. He’d heard the horror stories. 

“Just a bit more, okay?” Kurt nodded, mouth dropped open, chest heaving in a steady pant. His cock was still beautifully hard and bobbing slightly as Blaine pressed in and out. Blaine hunched forward to suck the tip into his mouth after slipping a third finger inside.

“Oh my- Blaine…” Kurt writhed and moaned and rocked back on Blaine’s fingers, hands clenched in the sheets. “Are you-”

“I’m going to be inside you, Kurt. Is that alright?” Blaine removed his fingers, petting at Kurt’s thigh as he leaned back on his heels and slicked himself up with more oil.

“Yes, oh. Yes, please.” Kurt grabbed for him, pulling him down by a fistful of hair to kiss him rough and hungry, then ripped his mouth away with a sharp gasp.

Angling Kurt’s legs back, Blaine lined himself up and pushed in, just a little. Just enough to feel how hot and tight and smooth Kurt was. He inched forward, sweat beading at his temples and legs trembling with the effort of not giving in and thrusting forward. When Blaine finally bottomed out he lowered himself on his elbows, and Kurt wrapped his arms tight around Blaine’s back; his legs cinched over Blaine’s waist. 

Blaine felt engulfed by Kurt. Consumed by him. 

Blaine rocked into him slowly, smooth thrusts of his hips. They were completely intertwined, slick skin and undulating muscles, passing gasps and moans between their lips. Kurt felt even more amazing than Blaine could have imagined, more than just pleasure, but a connection, a union. 

Kurt’s eyes flew open, holding Blaine’s as he met his thrusts with the canting of his own hips, his cock rubbing along Blaine’s belly where it was pressed between them. Kurt came with a silent cry, the tight heat intensifying around Blaine and it was too much, he pressed in deep once more, then spilled inside of Kurt, whispering love and reverence into the crook of his neck.

“I’m so glad you never forgot me,” Kurt said, after Blaine had pulled out and collapsed beside him on his stomach, then started to drift off as Kurt combed his fingers through his hair. He propped himself up and kissed the scar left on Blaine’s shoulder thanks to a wayward arrow.

“I had to,” Blaine mumbled, turning again and nestling into the space of Kurt’s waiting arms, just wanting to fall asleep and stay there forever. “You’re my destiny.”


End file.
